


Sweet Sorrow

by justanotherStonyfan



Series: Honey Honey [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friendship, M/M, Original Character(s), Phone Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherStonyfan/pseuds/justanotherStonyfan
Summary: “I thought you could maybe,” he says, “i-if you wanted to…seemyplace…?”Steve’s eyebrows go up and he smiles.“Yeah?” he asks. “I’d love to, you want we should go together or do you wanna head home alone?”James shakes his head.“It’s clean,” he says. “I don’t need to get there first, we can go together.”Steve beams.“Sure,” he says. “I’ll still need to stop somewhere on the way but yeah.”James finds that he’s smiling, too.“Awesome,” he says.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's me, the person who wrote this fic! I don't want to be a killjoy - this is fanfic, after all - but I would like to request that if y'all are down in the comments (which I much appreciate) **please don't start rec'ing other peoples' fics in there.**
> 
> If you'd like to recommend fics, there are platforms on which to do it, and anybody looking for similar stories will go looking for those platforms, rather than looking to my comments section for ad-space.
> 
> Thanks very much!
> 
>  
> 
> **Edit: Hi! Given that this has happened again in the space of like NO time at all, and is clearly being done by someone who wants to remain anonymous in order to use my comment space as a springboard, I've disabled anonymous commenting. I'm really sorry about this, as it means that some of the lovely people who come talk to me won't be able to come talk to me. I see you guys! I'm sorry this one person is being a dick. If you'd like to come and talk to me, just hit me up at[my tumblr ask](http://justanotherstonyfan.tumblr.com/ask)**

James could get used to being driven home from work every evening and dropped off every morning. He has a reasonable week at work. There's nothing eventful really happening except that he's assisting on a new R&D project. Deployable synthetic skin – shoot and stick. A bit like Spider-Man, but skin. Anyway, it's not far off some of the tech that's available already, but it would be hugely useful if they can get it to work because it'll keep blood vessels fresh and healthy beneath it instead of having a wound that's half-healed by the time medical assistance arrives. The benefits would be numerous – the example they're using so far in progress meetings is severed digits. If you cut off your thumb, for example, the idea is for you to be able to apply the skinthetic (working title) to the residual digit and the digit itself. Bleeding would stop and the skin would stay fresh and workable, ready for surgery. 

The whole thing is a concept that's basically a high-tech band-aid, but they're looking at painkiller deployment and antibacterial properties. It's not a fabulously glamorous project but then, he's only going to be on it until the miniature ReCProSys gets into testing and manufacture. 

By the middle of his second week at Steve’s, Steve has bought him actual motorcycle leathers, and they look really good on him. Steve seems to think so too, which is why they don't spend that long on James' actual body the first time he tries them on. On Wednesday, a box of sex toys turns up at Steve's. James knows this because he walks into find the box on the dining room table, which Steve then directs him to open. By the time he goes to work on Thursday, he couldn't be happier. 

James lives for two weeks in the lap of luxury, provided by Steven Grant Rogers. He goes to work every day with lunch and comes home every evening to dinner, and Steve does all his running before James is even awake in the mornings, so they eat breakfast together too. But spending almost two whole weeks at Steve's is dangerous, and James realizes on the Thursday evening before Steve next goes on duty, when it’s been almost a fortnight since he saw the inside of his own apartment.

He knows, as soon as work finishes on Thursday and he’s faced with their last evening together for maybe as long as a week, depending on Steve’s workload, how much he's going to miss Steve. James has learned in the past two weeks just how good it feels to be the other half of someone's day-to-day. He finds that he misses the confines of his own apartment, but not enough that he'd choose to go back if he didn't have to. That's a dangerous train of thought, he's sure. 

And so, on Thursday evening, he and Steve eat a wonderful meal and have so much sex that James isn't sure he's going to be able to comfortably sit on Steve's motorcycle come morning. Then, Thursday morning, they go to the tower, kiss goodbye in the parking garage, and James goes off to work. Steve goes upstairs.

James is weak at lunch, and goes all the way upstairs to eat his lunch with Steve on Steve’s floor. Steve’s weak at end-of-day and sends him a message to say he’ll take James home. (Technically he shouldn’t, but James can leave an hour early, so Steve will get back on time to go on duty.) 

And then Friday night is…

Well.

Lonely. 

It's weird when he gets into his apartment. It takes him a couple of minutes to figure out why - his apartment smells unused. There's no lingering smell of his deodorant or his cologne, there's no high notes of fresh laundry, the plug-in scent diffuser is still turned off and he hasn't cooked in here for almost a fortnight. It feels as though he's been away for a lot longer than he really has, and he wants to do his best to combat that feeling, so he starts putting his apartment back in order.

He turns on the A/C and the scent diffuser, and the small decorative lamps that sit on the shelves and tables around the living room. The light from them is a warm cream color, and helps bring a little life back into the room. It's still doesn't feel right though.

It's still light outside, and James debates for a while over what he's going to eat for his evening meal. He has literally nothing in that's edible - what few things there were have gone the way of the dodo considering they've been left here for so long. Take out is a terrible idea, of course it is, he is young and living in Brooklyn and he could go to any number of artisan places and pick up an artisan burger, but he doesn't want it. He wants keema and jalfrezi and parathas and samosas, but he lets his hunger dictate what he orders, and finds himself with twice as much as he needs.

He considers inviting Becca over, but by the time she gets here, she'd need to stay the night, and he doesn't have the room or the energy to put her up. 

He's not sure whether he ought to call Steve, given that Steve is now on duty. He does intend to see Steve during the coming week, even if their evenings can't be as active as they'd like. But he misses Steve. He expected to, of course, but this is harder than he anticipated. It feels deeper than he thought it would, which is ridiculous when he stops to think about it, given how much he cares, but here he is in his apartment, alone on a Friday night, trying not to get maudlin.

He very nearly texts Amy to see if she wants to go out, halfway to convincing himself that loud music and the company of one or two friends might change the way that he feels, but he wants to be up early, and clubbing until two in the morning isn't going to assist him with that.

It's at this point he knows that he's going to call Steve. He puts it off for another forty-five minutes - putting some clothes in the laundry, deciding what he's going to wear tomorrow - but caves eventually at about ten, knowing full well that he was never going to do anything but.

He calls Steve's cellphone and listens to it ring once, a second time, his heart sinks with the third, and he's just trying to decide between formulating an awkward answerphone message or hanging up and cutting his losses when Steve answers.

_"Hey, kiddo, how you doin'?"_

James hadn't known he was so wound up until all the tension flows out of him at the sound of Steve's voice.

"Hi," he breathes, settling back against his couch cushions. "I missed you."

Steve hums along, low sound down the line.

 _"What a coincidence,"_ he says, _"I was about to say the same thing."_

James smiles, flops sideways on the couch so he’s lying down and turns his face into the cushion for a moment. He can feel how red his face is but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah?” he says.

 _“James,”_ Steve says, like an admonishment. _“Of course. What have you been doing today?”_

And James tells him about the day he’s had - which consists mainly of recounting conversations with Amy given that he’s not doing anything in particular as far as his work is concerned. He can’t tell if he’s boring Steve, but Steve laughs in all the right places and asks him a question or two every now and again. But James is restless, itching for something, and he gets up to wander around his apartment while he talks to Steve.

He rearranges small things on his shelves, runs his fingers over books and talks about the milkshake he bought today and the lights in his bedroom. He goes into his bedroom because he’s describing the lights, and switches them on - not the main light but the strings of warm white LEDs arranged mostly near the head of his bed - and then flops down onto his mattress. It’s almost like any other phonecall he makes, except that, when he gets to the point where he’s lying on his bed and running his fingers first through his hair and then down his chest to smooth out the creases in his shirt, he realizes that he’s on his bed and running his fingers through his hair and down his chest.

It doesn’t help that Steve’s voice is something James has never heard anything like before. Steve’s general aura of sexiness is complete and absolute, from the sandy blond hair on his head to his oddly perfect toes. He looks good in everything from running shirts to Avenger suits, with everything in between pretty much included, he can keep up with general traffic if he decides to go on foot, and he can be the most menacing presence on a battlefield despite the fact that his main weapon was a frisbee until a relatively short while ago. 

Now his main weapon is _himself!_

But James is usually looking at Steve when he speaks, is usually in the same room as him. James usually doesn’t have the time to consider the components of Steve’s sexiness while he’s staring at the package deal and he finds, as he’s found before but can somehow never remember accurately, that Steve’s voice is like a physical presence on the back of his neck. Low and smooth, calm in a way nothing else really is, he closes his eyes and imagines away the mild distortion of the phone’s speaker. There isn’t much - StarkPhones are built to the highest standard - but if he concentrates on what Steve is saying and closes his eyes, he can imagine that the warmth and pressure against his ear is Steve’s mouth, not the accumulation of his own body heat on the phone’s screen. (The technical part of him knows that’s what it is, because the StarkPhones have a built in heat-sink for all components these days, so it can’t be the phone.) But, from there, it’s not much of a leap to imagine Steve’s weight pressing the bed down beside him, or to imagine Steve’s hand settled against his stomach instead of his own.

He bites his lip while Steve talks about having spent the evening with the Avengers he shares a shift with, and it’s interesting, it really is. It’s just that Steve is telling him how Sam and Wanda were baking cupcakes, and James knows he loves his friends like family, so Steve finds anything they do to be adorable or hilarious, and he laughs like smoke whispering over James’ skin - it’s not James’ fault. James is starting to get used to a whole new way of living, in that he thought sex was something he thought about a lot _before_ he met Steve, and now knows what a joke that assumption was. He shifts on the bed, tries to move his hips so his back isn’t so bent, tries to rearrange himself so that he’s comfortable, but it’s awkward and not very effective, and he makes a small noise of frustration through his nose _just_ as Steve pauses to take a breath.

And then the pause grows. 

_“Are…”_ Steve says, and when he speaks again his voice is _somehow even lower_ than it was before. _“Are you touching yourself?”_

“No,” James says on a whine and then he figures he’s got nothing to lose and yanks down his fly, fumbles his dick out of his pants and starts stroking it. “Uhhn, _now_ I’m touching myself, Jesus, Steve-” he swallows hard “God your voice-” 

_“Mmmmh,”_ Steve answers, instantly switching tack, _“pretty baby,”_ and oh wow, okay. _“Where are your toys, doll?”_

“Oh fuck, fuck, they’re in-”

 _“Let go of it and listen to me,”_ Steve says, and James groans at him.

“Do I have to?” he says.

 _“Not even a little,”_ Steve answers, _“Unless you want to.”_

James makes a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a whimper and does as he’s asked, letting go of his cock to wait for instructions.

“Okay,” he says, already gasping, “what now?” 

_“My, my, aren’t you good?”_ Steve says, and it ought to be cheesy but it’s just on this side of genuine, knowing, and James wants more. 

“I can be,” he says, “what now?” 

_“Hm, you can be impatient, is what it is. How about you take off that shirt and those pants, huh?”_

James puts the phone on speaker as he does, and yanks his shirt off over his head, shoves his jeans and boxers down and flails until they’re of his feet. Then he takes the phone off speaker and clamps it between his head and shoulder while he looks for his earbuds. 

“How’d you know I was still dressed?” James asks, and Steve says,

 _“Heard the zipper,”_ because of course the supersoldier heard the zipper, Jeez. _“You shower?”_

James bites his lip again.

“Not yet,” he says, and Steve sort of grunts at him. 

_“Next time, you oughta make sure you do, then we can have some real fun. For now, I just wanna hear you jerk off, okay? Fast as you like.”_

James laughs, plugs his earbuds in.

“Just a sec,” he says, and shoves them in his ears. “Okay, now tell me again.”

 _“What were you doing?”_ Steve asks, and James goes in the nightstand for lube. 

“Earbuds,” he says. “Also lube.”

Steve hums another long noise, soft but interested, but he does it low, so close it sounds like he’d holding the phone right in front of his mouth, so it’s directly in James’ ears now. _"For now, I just wanna hear you jerk off,"_ Steve says again. Goosebumps sweep James' body and he gets lube in the palm of his hand, enjoys the shock of coldness against the hot skin of his dick. If he shuts his eyes, it’s like he’s surrounded by Steve on all sides, and he starts to jack off slowly, right hand on his dick, left at the base of it.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, and speeds up, there’s no way he’s going to stay slow for this.

 _“Ohn, James,”_ Steve says, and the hair stands up on the back of his neck. _“_ Oh _yeah,”_ and Steve is breathing almost as hard as James is now. 

It’s all James needs really - fingers tight, toes curling into the mattress. He grips hard and moves fast and, for a few minutes, his brain’s only concentrating on harder and faster, on chasing the pleasure, on reaching the peak, and James is practically on the edge already when Steve says, 

_“Louder sweetheart,”_ and James moans accidentally and then deliberately, tipping his head back while he strokes faster.

Steve sounds like he’s having at least as much fun as James, if not more, and James can picture him, spread out the way James is - he pictures Steve at his apartment though he knows Steve will still be at the tower, sprawled out on his rumpled bedsheets, blond hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head back, eyes closed, cock hard and red and straining in his grip.

James scrapes his teeth over his lip, hips snapping up, driving his cock up into his fist and it’ll take the edge off even if it’s not what he wants.

“Steve,” he gasps on a breath in, “Ste- Steve, talk to me, can you-”

 _“God, just look at you, sweetheart, look at how hard you’re working, look how beautiful you are, you’re such a pretty picture, sweetheart,”_ and Steve is moaning at him about how good he is, how he’s doing so well, how he looks so good and follows instructions so nice and James-

And James-

“Oh, fuck, oh- Oh, _fuck,_ ” he gasps, and comes, and Steve makes a noise in his ears that’s low and rough like James’ own.

 _“Don’t stop,”_ he says, _“fuck, that’s it, don’t stop,”_

And James doesn’t - he keeps going as his body tenses, keeps going as his legs twitch inward and his head goes back, keeps going as the pleasure turns to sensitivity-

“Ah, ah, oh fuck, that’s-”

 _“Yeah,”_ Steve says, _“Yeah, keep going.”_

James winces, hisses on his next breath in and can’t help the noise of semi-pain he makes.

“Steve,” he says, and Steve waits a few more seconds before he answers,

_“Alright, sweetheart. You feel better?”_

Steve sounds completely unaffected, all of a sudden, and James frowns at his ceiling and turns this over in his addled brain. Steve has the serum but he shouldn’t recover that quickly.

“Steve?” he says, and he hears himself say it, knows the tone he’s using is flat and doesn’t care. 

_“Mmh?”_ Steve answers, and then James hears…

Is that crockery.

“Are you doing the goddamn _dishes_?”

_“Uh…”_

James puts his clean hand over his eyes and laughs.

“Unbelievable.” That means, though, that Steve was standing at his kitchen sink and making sex noises down the phone just so James could get off. James laughs. “I can’t decide if I hope someone was in your apartment with you or not.”

Steve snorts a laugh as well.

_“Just Sam and Wanda.”_

“What!?” but Steve is already laughing.

 _“I’m kidding, Jeez, sorry,”_ and he might be saying sorry but he apparently finds it hilarious anyway.

“You’re an asshole,” James says.

 _“Well at least I’m_ your _asshole._ ”

James fights the sappy grin threatening to appear on his face. Then he stops fighting it and grins like a sap. 

But Steve makes an irritated sound. 

_“I’m sorry, honey - as much as I’d like to spend some time in a bed with you on the phone, I’m on duty, and I’ve been briefed this weekend about something I can’t talk about. It’s nothing big but we’re sleeping in shifts until the issue’s resolved, and I happen to be on a meal-slash-sleep break. They’re letting me take the first one ‘cause they know I’ve been busy all week.”_

James feels himself blush even as he chuckles, and he fishes around on the floor for his underwear to wipe off. 

“Didn’t tell them what you were doing?” he says, and Steve makes a noise like a growl down the phone that does more to James than it should considering he’s already just had an orgasm.

 _“That’s mine and yours for the time being,”_ he says, and James likes the sound of that. 

The sounds of the dishes diminish, however, and James looks at the clock. It’s getting later.

“When do you have to go to bed?”

 _“Any minute now, darling, I’m sorry,”_ Steve answers, and he doesn’t say darling like James has heard people say it, offhand or half-formed, so it must be another of those things he’s picked up from friends. 

He says it as though he means it. 

“You could call me tomorrow night if you’ve got time,” James says, because he wants Steve to talk him through jerking off _forever_. 

_“I will if I can, sweetheart, I promise,”_ Steve says. _“Sleep well.”_

“I will try,” James answers. “I-” wow, no, don’t say that yet, pay attention. “I miss you.”

There’s a small pause, and then Steve says,

_“You too.”_

He hangs up, and James knows, James knows that Steve was saying _miss you too_. That Steve doesn’t know what James almost said. 

But James hopes to hear that same ‘ _you too_ ’ about something else, one day.

He puts his phone on the nightstand and goes to the bathroom to clean up. Then he wanders back out into the main room of his apartment so he can grab his bag. Inside, Steve’s laptop - lent to him this weekend - and a couple of little things in boxes wait for him. He knows the things in boxes are sex-toys, but he’ll play tomorrow.

He gets into bed fully intending to go to sleep but it doesn’t work. He rolls over and sticks his face in the nice, cool pillow, and that’s when he realizes his problem.

That’s when he realizes why it’s weird in here. 

He goes over to his bookshelf, picks up the cologne Steve sent him, and sprays it in the general direction of his pillows. He gets a little on his wrists instead, smears it at his neck. This time, when he lies down, though it’s a little strong, a little astringent because it’s not fully dry, his bed smells of Steve now, and that’s way better.

But, alas, James isn’t entirely used to sleeping at this time of night. He figures the best way to tire himself out would be to watch something, because then he doesn’t have to engage his brain. He pulls up Netflix on his tablet and loads ~~super~~ **human** because it's been out for a week but he's only had the chance to watch the first five episodes of the new season, and picks up where he left off. James is totally not going to binge the entire season in one sitting.

~

 _“I can’t believe,”_ Ethan whispers, hand outstretched and no, James is totally _not_ crying, _“God, is it really you?”_

 _“Don’t,”_ Krisis answers, _“don’t, you can’t trust me-”_

 _“Ethan!”_ Nadia hisses, close to passing out now, _“Krisis is-”_

But Ethan shakes his head, and James isn’t surprised - he’d know that voice anywhere. 

_“I know who he is,”_ he says. _“Christ, I thought you were dead…”_

And Krisis shakes his head, looks miserable but, despite all the damage Ethan’s sustained, Ethan doesn’t care. Not one bit, not at all, couldn’t if his life depended on it. He removes the mask and there, exhausted and bleeding against the old concrete of the abandoned warehouse, _oh my God!_ , is none other than-

**_WE ARE FA-MI-LY!_**

James startles so hard he knocks his tablet on his _face_ and _fuck_ -

“Oww, Jesus!”

_“I never thought I’d see you again.”_

**_I GOT ALL MY SIS-TERS WITH ME!_**

James fumbles for his phone on the nightstand as he tries to find the pause button on the tablet. 

_“Ethan….God, Ethan, I’m so sorry-”_

Trust her to ring just at the good part - Jesus, his fuckin’ _nose._

**_WE ARE FA-MI-LY!_**

_“How? No, screw it, I don’t care how-”_

God, there. Got it. And then he wedges the phone between his shoulder and his ear again.

 _“Hey stinkbug!”_ Becca says sweetly through the phone, and James grits his teeth as he finally manages to prop the tablet back up on his chest.

“I’m watching the last episode of ~~super~~ **human** can you ring me back in like-” he checks “-seven minutes?”

Becca squeals.

_“Oh my God you’re going to love it!”_

“Get off the line,” he says, but he’s smiling, and she makes noises in some approximate imitation of his sentence, mocking, and then hangs up.

He looks at his phone and frowns, puts it down on the nightstand. Then he looks at the screen he's paused his tablet on.

Oh wow, Ethan’s kissing him. 

_Nice_.

***

Morning for Steve finds the situation unresolved.

And situations that sit on a knife edge suck for a couple of reasons. 

Firstly, it’s impossible to make any movement towards preparing for the outcome unless you’re putting in twice the work and, honestly, that kind of thing is fine if you’re going out to the beach and you don’t know if it’ll rain or shine. You take a coat, and sun lotion. Simple. But at this level you’re looking at splitting troops or maybe even halving your firepower to prepare for both outcomes. You can plan, of course. If the hostage-taker won’t negotiate, you look at going in another way. If the hostage-taker negotiates, you make sure they aren’t a danger to anyone when the time comes to get people out. Planning is fine, but preparing? No, you have to put a hold on that. ‘Cause how do you put your only twenty guys in the basement if you’ve got your only twenty guys on the rooftops?

And, secondly, you’re sitting in a room, knowing you only have a few minutes’ notice potentially, and you have to make sure that, if the time comes, you’re ready to go. It’s the same for anyone on duty - cops, firemen, on-call doctors. But it still sucks. Steve can go grab a coffee but he’s aware of the fact that he might not get to finish it. And okay, it’s not a big deal.

It’s just, sitting around and doing nothing always was the worst part of a mission for Steve. He’s the kind of guy who likes to _do_ something.

Right now, at least, it’s far better that they don’t. What they have is an impasse. A stalemate. There’s a small, new government in central Africa trying to work things out amongst themselves. Which is fine. The people protesting in the streets, set to riot? Not as fine. It’s likely nothing will come of it. There have been thousands of protests in history and a lot of them end without any problems. People come out, people say what they came to say, people go home. There is worry, however, because it’s about the repeal of a breakthrough law about sexuality.

Now, Captain America wasn’t meant to have a sexuality.

Commander Rogers is supposed to look at the situation, assess, keep everyone safe and be concerned with that alone.

But Steve from Brooklyn 1918 is a little astounded that this sort of thing can happen now. It’s 2026, for God’s sake, and yet people are still shouting at each other about what their skin color is and what their religion is and what their sexuality is and… He’s a gay icon. Well, actually, he’s what the media have affectionately termed a Bicon, and he wears his fancy pink, purple and blue suit and carries his shield with the colored decals on every year at Pride and does guest speaking at queer events and…

He’s not the only queer Avenger - he’s not even the only queer Avenger on duty. And that’s not including Nat and Clint. But what it means is that they have to consider two things if the protest goes south:

One - although the Avengers are recognized as a worldwide organization, the fact that they’re rooted in the US is never helpful in these situations.

Two - Steve is so out that there have been magazine articles about the kind of men and women that would “make the perfect date” for him.

Which means that he’s going to have to be aware, if they’re called in to deal with this, diplomacy will be absolutely necessary, both from a political and a personal standpoint. Very few people in the US are dumb enough to insult Steve face to face about his preferences. He’s not sure how well it’ll work when fifty percent of a very large crowd want to insult him about it, and have the numbers to overpower him.

“What you dreamin’, Cap?” Sam says as he sits down with a coffee for each of them.

Steve continues shuffling the cards.

“Sorry,” he says. “Million miles away. Just worried about bisexual presence in a semi anti-queer crowd, you know how it is.”

“I got some idea,” Sam says. 

“Blackjack?” Steve asks, and Sam nods.

“Sure.”

Steve loses. Sam takes a card but Steve wins. He deals more and then wins again. Deals.

“How’s that kid a’yours?” 

Steve tilts his head from side to side, frowns and takes another card.

“We’re gettin’ on well,” he says. “We compliment each other, which is nice. Haven’t run into nothin’ we ain’t talked through soon enough.”

Steve loses, makes a ‘tch’ noise and they go again.

“Ever play fifty-two card pickup?” Sam asks.

Steve doesn’t even look up.

“Wilson,” he says, “I am one-hundred and seven goddamn years of age - you throw the cards on the ground, ‘s only one person pickin’ ‘em up and it ain’t me, ca-pitchy?”

“See you do this kinda shit,” Sam says - Steve wins, “and I know you know how to do it right, but it’s honest to God an atrocity when you do it wrong. Which reminds me - I hear you call balogna ‘buh-log-na’ one more time-”

 _“Che ne dici di Blackjack? Lo capisci?”_ Steve says, ace of spades and ten of hearts.

“Asshole!” Sam says. “Yeah, I fuckin’ understood Blackjack alright. Go on, deal again. He copin’ with the whole-” he waves his hand in Steve’s general direction, “datin’ you thing?”

“We’re doing okay,” Steve nods. “Spent a couple weeks at mine-”

“Weeks?” Sam says.

“Yeah, y’know,” Steve answers, but he’s not sure he likes the look on Sam’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, Sam, we’ve already had this discussion. And to be honest, it’s nice to be sharing space with someone. He’s wicked sharp and he has my stupid sense of humor, plus he can keep up with me in all respects.”

“I know,” Sam says, taking a card. Sam wins. “I don’t need any more information on that front. Soo…”

Steve looks up as he deals. Frowns. 

“So?”

“So I’m your best friend, man,” Sam says, nudging Steve’s shin with his toe. “Dish.”

Steve feels his eyebrows go up. Takes a card.

“Dish?” he says. 

Sam just raises an eyebrow. Loses.

“A’right, a’right,” Steve says. “Okay. So he loves lie-ins and he likes to cuddle, which, I mean-”

“Aw, you like that shit.”

“I love that shit,” Steve confirms. “It’s so _nice_ \- I mean the kid _loves_ to cuddle. He’ll come and find me or sit next to me and he ain’t afraid to be around me or let me be around him - I told you what he said about China.”

“Mm,” Sam nods. Loses. “Pretty good attitude.”

“And he actually- Like, I don’t wanna get weird about it, Sam, you know me.”

“You’re a gentleman,” Sam says, “but…?”

“Aw but he’s so sweet. He likes my cooking.”

“Okay so you’re dating a lunatic-”

“You ain’t tried,” Steve says, wins, “my cookin’ since I learned how to cook.”

“Is this before or after the beef wellington month?” 

Steve chews his lip for a moment and then concedes. 

“Fine,” he says. “But I make other stuff now. And the kid likes it, and likes me to…take care. You know? I know it ain’t even been two months since I met him but it’s like he should be where he is. You know?”

“Like he belongs in the spaces,” Sam says. Loses. “I get it. Just keep in mind your timing on this.”

Steve pulls a face.

“I know,” he says, and wins the next hand - three in a row. “It ain’t been long we've been together but I’ve got an eye on it Sam, it feels _good_ this time. And I don’t wanna discredit anybody else and I _know_ I sound like a dumb kid but it feels better with him. It feels _good_ with him. I’m not worried about what he’s gonna say or- You know, I told him about all the trouble I had with-”

“Really?” Sam says, evidently surprised. “You didn’t even tell me for months and I was right fuckin’ there when it happened.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, wins again. “I mean, you were there when I needed you, though, wouldn't'a told nobody if you hadn't showed me how. But the thing is, he got real sad about it for a while but all that stuff I liked that she didn’t like-”

“I don’t want the details,” Sam says, but he leans back and smiles. “He’s treatin’ you right?”

Steve’s eyes shut of their own accord - right doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Yeah,” he says, and even he hears the difference in his voice. “He’s treatin’ me _right_ , and I’m givin’ as good as I get.”

“That good, huh?” Sam says over a chuckle, and Steve can feel his face warm a little - he wins again - but, even though Sam might make all the noise about not wanting to know, he’s still a little interested.

He’s Steve’s best friend for God’s sake.

“Way better than I thought, especially considering how young he is. It’s so good to have it all back, the whole…sharing space, physical contact, sex life thing.”

Sam’s eyebrows go up even as he gets another card. And another. 

“Nice, man,” he says - Steve wins _again_. “Very nice. I just- Are you counting cards?”

Steve frowns at the deck.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, I think so, sorry.”

~

Steve tells Wanda about James because she notices he’s smiling more, and because he cares enough about her opinion to tell her what’s going on. Sam lets him lead the conversation, but she gives him a hug and smiles broadly, and says she’s happy he’s happy.

“When do we get to meet him?” Natasha asks, and Steve rolls one shoulder in a shrug.

“I’m thinkin’ the six month mark,” he says. “If you’re all well-behaved.”

He sees Sam’s eyebrows shoot up but shakes his head minutely. He does want everyone else to wait six months. Sam’s the exception to a lot of Steve’s rules. 

He can tell from Natasha’s expression that she’s noticed, but she leaves it alone. Years sharing space and developing a friendship mean she knows when to pry and when to keep herself to herself. Steve’s glad of it, actually - of her friendship and the fact that she respects his privacy. She didn’t used to, and it was awkward as fuck (not to mention irritating as hell, much like her smug attitude used to be). But they learned to function as a team, and she learned to trust him as a CO.

At least, he thinks with a wry smile, as far as he can tell. 

“Six months!” Wanda says. “That’s a long time!”

“It’s been two already,” Steve says, and her mouth drops open.

“And you didn’t tell me,” she says. “I’m sad.”

Steve gives her a look.

“What have you done now?” Tony asks as he walks in, and Steve turns around so fast he nearly falls off his chair. 

“I’m just explaining about the intern I’m seeing,” he says. 

“I didn’t know Steve had a-”

“Date,” Steve says, cutting her off and trying to convey as much as he can with raised eyebrows and a jerk or two of his head, “a date.”

While Tony wanders over to the coffee machine, Steve makes a slicing motion across his neck. 

“Ix-nay on the oyfriend-bay,” he hisses, as quietly as he can, and they look at him like he’s grown a second head.

“She’s gotta be something to turn your head,” Tony half-yells from the kitchen, and _all_ of them suddenly get it and stifle laughter. “You’re never down on R &D - was it that Amy girl caught your eye?”

“Asian?” Steve says, while Wanda giggles into her palm and Nat rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “About five foot, black hair to her shoulder blades?”

Sam and Clint are chuckling as well.

“Yeah!” Tony says.

“No,” Steve answers, straight-faced, and Clint guffaws.

When Tony comes back into view, he’s carrying an espresso cup and doing his best to look drier than a bone in a desert.

“I hate you,” he says, and Steve laughs along with everyone else and then puts on his best contemplative expression.

“Hmm,” Steve says, stroking his chin, “why would I want to wait six months-”

“Get out,” Tony answers, walking back to the elevator. “Get out of my tower, leave forever. Never darken my doorways again.”

“It’s nice having somebody who isn’t tied up in the Avengers for the time being,” Steve calls after him. “Not that I don’t adore you, of course.”

Tony turns as he leaves.

“Of course you do, dearest,” he says, doors opening behind him. “I’m irresistible.”

He gets onto the elevator and glares at Steve as the doors close, and Steve just grins back at him until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Wanda’s, as it turns out.

“I’m happy for you,” she says. “Your whole presence is happier”

“Thanks,” he says. 

“But why have you not corrected Tony?”

“It’ll be funnier when you meet him if I don’t,” and Wanda lifts her head, _ah, I see_ , and smiles. “I want for you guys to meet him, I just wanna make sure we’re good and solid first. He’s a good guy.”

“What is his name?” Wanda says, and Steve feels himself blush, ducks his head to hide the kind of smile he knows is goofy.

“James,” he says. “And he’s very cute.”

“Oh, of course,” Wanda says. 

“You get into any of the kinky shit with him yet?” Nat ribs, and Steve points at her.

“That reminds me, actually, you still got those reinforced restrai-”

“Ogh Jesus,” Sam winces.


	2. Chapter 2

James doesn’t see Steve over the weekend. There isn’t time, really, although they text. And Steve calls him each night. 

On Monday, James gets home and finds a package waiting, inside which is…well, a camera lens sort of? Or something? For all the camera lenses James had seen, anyway. It looks like a...a roll of duct tape with a crystal ball set inside it or...a snowglobe that’s sunken into its base. A thick ring of some kind of material, surrounding a barely visible convex lens or piece of glass or-

James has absolutely no idea what it is. 

But then Steve rings him that evening at ten and says, 

_“Put me on speaker,”_ and, when he does, Steve says loudly and clearly, _“Alright Bambi, cast video call to-_ ” like pro-dome? Or something? 

And then the glass ball in its ring lights up with a happy series of ascending tones – definitely looks like a camera lens inside, lots of lenses and rings – and then gives another ping, two notes, with the words, _ACCEPT - DECLINE_ in two little circles of light on the side of the metal ring.

 _“Hit accept,”_ Steve says, and so James does, and then the whole metal ring flashes white (how?), says _BIOMETRICS LOGGED_ and then what looks like sand but made of light is thrown up into the air in front of him.

By the time he reacts to it, stepping back and looking up at it, Steve's....

Steve's torso is rendered in the air in front of him in light. Like the holograms in the tower.

“This is a holographic projector?” he says, completely unnecessarily because duh, and Steve smiles.

 _“Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,”_ he answers. “We've _got them to beta test, because Tony Stark looked at the most recognized Strategic Response Unit in the US and thought 'lets get these nerds some toys,' but he's not wrong, so here we are._ You've _got one because I don't use mine, and it'll be more fun for you. They'll be on the market next year but Happy Christmas or something. Hey, when I hang up, try the planetarium setting.”_

James does – he goes to sleep under it.

After they try it for something else…

~

On Tuesday, Steve texts him at lunch to tell him that the situation has finally resolved itself, and James goes up after work to spend time with him. 

They have dinner, and then the Avengers are called out to a ‘vampiric technological parasite’ in South America - _it’s a virus that’s redirecting electricity,_ Steve says, _but that doesn’t make headlines anymore or somethin’_ \- and he kisses James briefly on the mouth and heads out. 

James finishes dinner by himself because it’s delicious (carbonara, with fresh strawberries for dessert, which sucks because James has heard strawberries are supposed to be an aphrodisiac and what’s the fun in that if his boyfriend is in another country?) and then waits a little bit to let it settle, which he does while re-watching season two of ~~super~~ **human** and then skipping straight to the last episode because omg that kiss! 

After that, he runs for a little bit on the treadmill. Okay, he walks. But he walks for like half an hour at a good pace, and then he has a shower and…his dressing gown is back here? Huh. Then he goes to bed.

He feels himself stirring at some ungodly hour, doesn’t quite register everything, and then warm lips brush his ear and the bed dips behind him as Steve’s voice says,

“Shh, sweetheart.”

James smiles as he drifts back into sleep, aware enough of the warm weight of Steve’s arm over his chest that he rests his arm on top. 

~

Wednesday morning sees Steve gone when James wakes, and he thinks for a moment that he must have dreamed Steve getting into bed with him, except that Steve comes in about two minutes later in shorts and a tank, a towel around his neck, rubbing sweat out of hair turned dark with it. 

“Hey,” he says. “Good morning, you sleep okay aside from my interruption?”

“Mmm,” James says, smiling as he stretches. “I dreamed a tall, handsome lookin’ blonde was spooning me. Isn’t that nice?”

“Sounds lovely,” Steve says. “I need to shower.”

“What a coincidence!” James says. “Me too!”

They take a little longer than usual, but no longer than necessary.

Breakfast is cinnamon toast crunch and an apple, and then Steve hands James a tupperware container with Caprese avocado salad, and James realizes he must have made this last night.

“Steve,” he says, but Steve shakes his head.

“I can grab some sleep,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. Have a good day and get your ass back up here when you’re done, yes?”

James smiles, hooks his arm around Steve’s neck and stands on his toes for a kiss. 

“Yes,” he says, grinning.

Wednesday night is probably more fun than Steve ought to be having on duty.

~

Thursday passes much the same, without much incident at work and without any incident for the Avengers.

“How do you get into the suit on your own?” James asks over his salmon sushi bowl. 

They’re having mochi ice cream for dessert which Steve confesses to having bought. As though James expects him to have time to make it himself when he’s on duty.

“Hidden closet and laser-guided robot arms.”

James laughs and Steve’s gaze flicks up to him.

“Oh, you’re serious?” James says. “Cool! Can I see?”

“Yeah, just keep up with me next time there’s an alarm.”

James gives him a look.

“Right,” he says, “’cause keeping up with you’s so easy.”

Steve smiles, goes back to his meal.

“So, what, do you take it with you wherever you go?” James asks.

And here, interestingly, Steve actually looks… _guilty_.

“Uh,” he says. “So you know how you believe in Santa for a long time?” 

James frowns. And then-

“Oh my God, is there more than one suit?” he says, eyes wide.

Steve gives him an awkward smile.

“There’s way more than one,” he says. “There’s one here in the bedroom, one in each of the jets…uh, one in my place in Brooklyn, one in the trunk of the car, one in-”

“My whole life is a lie!” James says. “Noooo.”

Steve chuckles. 

“In the jet, _people_ have to help.”

“Oh wow,” James says, voice flat. “I bet that looks really cool.”

“The badass-est,” Steve answers. 

~

Friday morning, James wakes with Jarvis’ alarm. Steve’s sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard, reading from his tablet. 

“Mmmph,” James says, face down in the pillow. “No.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve says, leaning over him, peppering his shoulders with little kisses, slightly more lingering ones across the back of his neck once gentle fingers have moved his hair aside to bare the skin.

And then suddenly Steve is gone and the sheet is whipped back. James squawks, grabs a pillow to cover his bare ass as he laughs, and Steve grabs the pillow off him.

“Too far?” he says, low, fast.

“No,” James answers, and Steve grabs him again, grabs his hands as he tries to cover his butt with them instead. 

“Not allowed,” Steve tells him. “Can’t decide what to do with it if I can’t see it.”

James curls his body up a little, hides his face as his cheeks burn, but he’s laughing, and he hums into Steve’s mouth as Steve rolls him onto his back to kiss him.

“Mmm, good morning,” he says when they break for breath.

“It’ll be a better evening,” James says. “When do you get off?” And then, “No,” but it’s too late.

“Depends how late you are,” and James rolls his eyes as Steve crowds him against the mattress, lying along James’ side, propped up on one elbow so he can touch James all over with his other hand.

“You’re awful,” he says. 

“Mmm,” Steve answers, maintaining the kind of eye-contact that makes James feel warm everywhere. “Terrible. My shift ends about five.”

They kiss for a little longer but James really does have to be up, and Steve makes thick, fluffy pancakes with butter and syrup for breakfast, and then bacon too because he’s a saint. 

James has egg salad sandwiches for lunch, but the egg salad’s seasoned with garlic and paprika and mustard and salt, and it’s on ciabatta bread. Steve says all he does is cook while James is at work, because there’s nothing else to do if he can’t leave the tower. The egg salad has little pieces of Italian sausage in. James is going to be hard-pressed to wait until lunch to eat it.

“I’ll wanna grab some stuff after work tonight,” Steve tells James as he collects the used breakfast crockery and cutlery, and James…

Well, James has been thinking about asking a particular question for a while, and figures now would be as good a time as any.

“I thought,” he says, and Steve pauses in what he’s doing, turns around.

“Mmh?” he says, and James chews his lip for a moment.

“I thought you could maybe,” he says, “i-if you wanted to…see _my_ place…?”

Steve’s eyebrows go up and he smiles.

“Yeah?” he asks. “I’d love to, you want we should go together or do you wanna head home alone?”

James shakes his head.

“It’s clean,” he says. “I don’t need to get there first, we can go together.”

Steve beams.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll still need to stop somewhere on the way but yeah.”

James finds that he’s smiling, too.

“Awesome,” he says.

~

James was born in the early two-thousands, and watched the world try to destroy itself and then rebuild itself in the years he's been alive. He's watched the housing and job markets crash and rise, he's watched the laws for minimum wage come in, go out again, and come back in again. For a while, during his childhood, there was a cycle of pass-and-repeal so fast and so pointless it made peoples' heads spin - foreign interference, indictments, a whole host of ridiculousness that led to the overhaul of democratic processes worldwide. So, although it gave way to a new, better way of doing things (aside from those points of damage that are still healing - these things take time), James has seen some shit. He's had to deal with the knowledge, very young, that he might have to go through some shit too, even though a lot of that never happened, thank God. But that means that James is the type of man who can be literally personally picked out of students at his prestigious university and asked to come and work for the most successful business in the world, for a salary that will basically set him up for life, who can be so good at his job he's put in one of the higher-up departments, who can complete a high-security-clearance projects based on another high-security-clearance project _and_ get a personal visit from the most famous engineer in the world, and still somehow think that the meeting he's called into first thing Friday morning means he's in trouble.

Moreso when he walks in and Connor, his manager, and Tony-

He's gonna throw up, oh my God, it's Tony Stark.

Amy's there though, and she's smiling, so that can't be bad, right?

“Jimmy,” Tony Stark says, and James bites the inside of his cheek. 

“It's James,” he says after a moment. 

He'd shake hands except Stark says he doesn't do that. Amy giggles, Stark is unfazed

“James,” he says. “Got a friend named James, he doesn't like Jimmy either. Kinda likes Honeybear though. At least, he never objected, what are we doing?”

“We're setting up the schedule for testing,” Connor says, throwing James the best OMG look James has ever seen. “This is the retroreflective cloaking projection system on a miniaturized scale. The mini invisibility-”

“That’s right, you’re the Sebastian Caine guys!” he says. 

He opens his mouth to continue, too, but James gets there first.

“Except we don’t plan on lying to our Mr Kramer.”

Connor frowns but Stark’s eyebrows go up. 

“ ‘Any last words?’ ”

“ ‘Yeah,’ ” James says. “ ‘If I die, pretend I said something deep and clever.’ ”

“Oho,” Stark says, _oh wow_ he’s talking to Tony Stark. “That’s pretty good. Pretty fast, you’re good - he’s good,” Stark says to Connor. “Clearly a well-rounded education, I’m not gonna beat around the bush - this thing is big. Huge. The regular hospital-hider is good enough, it’s what my wife would call ‘stellar’ but man, deployable invisibility technology?”

Stark shakes his head, his eyes go distant. 

“You can keep civilians out of the way of bad guys, you can hide babies from monsters, you—” Stark points at him with the pencil “— can keep everyone out of the line of sight but here’s the kicker, you’re smart. You’re smart - my R&D Department doesn’t do not-smart, so I know there are things we can do to cinch it - don’t get me wrong. I’m putting this into testing and manufacture in a lot of places, we’re going to start it next week and we want to utilize in the next two months, it's big, kids, this is _big_ but this party’s lame, Max, so make it a good one, I know you and you can do better.”

James frowns. What the hell does Stark mean, they can do better? It works! The Wakadan ambassador to the US likes to say that things can always be improved even if they work, which he knows ‘cause he’s seen her on Ellen, but how are you supposed to improve something that hides families from monsters? If you can’t be seen then-

 _Holy shit_ -

“Physical signal neutralization,” James says, just as Amy says, 

“Barrier protection,” and then he looks at her because, oh wow, yeah, he never thought of that.

From the look on her face, she didn’t think of physical signal neutralization.

“I like you kids,” Stark says, taps his temple. “Smart. If you’re invisible-”

“You still give off heat signals,” James says, “you can still be smelled, you need-”

“-a barrier,” Amy says, “something good enough that it’ll keep out the bad guys if you get stepped on. Power-source’d have to be minuscule-”

“Flux capacitor’s out I guess?” James says, and Amy snorts.

“That’s the ticket, kids,” and James has heard Steve says ‘that’s the ticket,’ wonders if Stark got it from him or vice versa. “We have energy fields, you know that, we’ve had ‘em since the King of Wakanda shared his resources but-

“How do you block heat, sound, life-signs and still make it so the people on the inside can see out?” James says. “Blocking it is easy - you use lead, but a window, that’s safe? Transparent or translucent coverage that’s complete-”

“-without oxygen deprivation,” Amy says, turning to him. “And then you…”

~

Tony loves his R&D department. It’s full of people who are smart as hell and just as determined. There are Avengers, and then there are the people who make what the Avengers use, who code and plan and design and redesign. The Avengers is a bigger organization than most civilians realize, and it’s the reason the people Stark Industries employs are paid as well as they are. 

Incentive. Keep your workers happy. Employee loyalty is actually rewarded at SI, unlike the multitude of other places that pretend employees are important and then cut them loose without a second thought. The people who work at SI are people they want for life, people who either love what they do or are working towards a position in which they can love what they do. Interns become employees become project managers become subsection managers and managers and departmental advisers and Tony will do his utmost to keep every single one of them as happy as possible for the rest of their lives because they’ve saved his life and the lives of the Avengers and the lives of countless civilians over the course of the years SI has been developing Avenger technology. Medical advancement, intelli-crops, bricks and beams for baby hospitals - irony aside, he’s done it all.

The best way to save people is to keep doing it. 

And the best way to keep doing it is keep training the people who make it happen.

The guy is busy talking about the specifics of integration of energy defense into the projected hologram versus layering of hologram and energy shield, and the girl is talking about light via reciprocal mirror tech being re-purposed for semipermeable oxygen obtainment, and they’ve already made a mental note to talk about automatic or triggered shutdown.

He turns to the kid in charge of the other two kids. 

“I love this job,” he says. “Boys and girls, I believe the next meeting will be commencing shortly, you got desks and computers and Quiet Rooms, let’s go write this shit down.”

The kids look surprised and then seem to come back to themselves.

~

“Right,” James says, and he stands up as though he’s got no control of his legs, one swift movement.

Tony Stark says stand, you stand.

“Thank you, Mr Stark,” Connor says, and Amy looks suddenly terrified as she glances at James, but she puts on a brave face. 

“Thank you,” she says, and when she turns away, she mouths _oh my God!_

It’s James’ turn but, before he can open his mouth, Stark says,

“How do you feel about AC/DC?”

James cocks his head.

“I don’t mind them, but I’m more of a Piano Man guy myself.”

Stark pretends to look disappointed. 

“Too Art Garfunkel for me,” he says, “and here I thought we could be friends.”

He actually does hold his hand out to shake, then, and James takes it, makes sure his grip is good and firm, that his shake is decisive.

“All due respect, Mr Stark,” he says, “you compared Billy Joel to Art Garfunkel. So as the great Men Without Hats once said of those who don’t dance…”

Stark laughs. 

“How dare you,” he says, “don’t look at me,” and James grins, does as he’s asked.

They leave the conference room and, sure enough, the next party’s on their way in. James can feel the excitement coming off Connor and Amy, and he knows they have to act professional but oh my _God!_

“Holy shit, kid,” Connor says as they wait for the elevator. “I can hear ‘em clangin’ from here!”

James shakes his head.

“I ain’t got balls of steel - I got a mouth with no filter when I get nervous.”

Connor laughs, smacks him on the back.

“We should go out tonight,” he says. “Celebrate.”

“Yeah!” Amy agrees, and James bites his lip.

“I…” he says. “I made plans but…”

“Aw come on!” Connor tells him. “We just got T&M approval! We got _second tier project approval._ That means a certain band of colorful weirdos will be wearing a certain you-know-what in the relative future, and we’re only gonna make it better - you know how big this is!”

James nods, scrapes his teeth over his lower lip and smiles.

“A’right,” he says. “Lemme…lemme see, I’ll…call them at lunch, see if I can take a rain check.”

And so James and Amy book a quiet room - small but comfortable, monitored by Jarvis, and soundproofed completely - and sit and discuss the best way to go about creating a physical invisibility shield. James has no idea how long it’ll take them but, considering that half the tech already exists, it’ll be a hell of easier than starting from scratch. If you’ve seen further, it’s by standing on the shoulders of giants and all that jazz, and standing on Tony Stark and the King of Wakanda’s shoulders is a pretty fuckin’ awesome place to be.

“This is gonna be so cool,” Amy says, and James grins.

He knows!

 _God_ he loves his job!

~

Steve is thinking that it’s just about time for James to get a text or two when Jarvis informs him James is already on his way up. Surprised but also slightly concerned - usually changes of plan are accompanied by text messages discussing them. But he tries not to look too concerned when he opens the door and waits. 

James hops off the elevator sporting a huge grin, which Steve takes to mean represents the receipt of good news, and bounces his way to Steve to fling his arms around Steve’s neck to kiss him. Steve goes easily - why wouldn’t he? - and, when he leans back, James touches his tongue to one canine and bobs his eyebrows. 

“Hi,” he says.

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Steve says. 

“Ah-huh,” James nods. “But can we go inside a minute? I need- need to talk to you about tonight.”

Steve frowns a little but nods, rubs his hand down James’ spine in what he hopes is a reassuring way, and then James pulls away and goes inside. Steve follows him in and James gets all of about two feet before he turns back, actually wringing his hands. 

“Okay, so I definitely want you to come to my place - I do! I want you to, but also, okay, so I went into work today, and we had a meet- uh, me and Amy and Connor, we had this meeting and it turned out it was with _Mr Stark_ and we just—” he gulps very hard but beams as he continues “—we just got approved for the next step which is like, Jarvis, can I tell him what the next step is if I don’t say specifically? Do you know what I mean?”

“ _You may indeed name the next portion of the program providing you do not mention the actual project,_ ” Jarvis says and Steve feels his eyebrows climb.

“Testing and manufacture!” James says. “We got approved for testing and manufacture!” He laughs. “That means it’s _definitely_ going to be something SI produces, isn’t that great?”

“James,” Steve says, finding that he’s also grinning just as widely. “That’s fantastic!”

He steps forward and, because James’ arms are folded, he cups James’ elbows in his palms to draw him forward as he leans down for another kiss.

“Congratulations,” Steve says, and James smiles up at him, unfolds his arms and wraps them around Steve’s torso.

“Thanks,” James says, all white teeth and crinkled eye-corners - he laughs again. “Thanks!”

Steve slides his palm onto James’ cheek. 

“That’s wonderful, honey,” he says, “that’s fantastic, I’m so proud of you. But what had you all twisted up when you got in here?”

He actually watches the joy melt out of James’ expression, and he doesn’t like it at all - in the few seconds it takes James to answer, Steve’s serum-enhanced tactician’s brain (which was already pretty sharp before the serum, thanks) comes up with way too many scenarios, which mainly end in _’so we can’t see each other any more._ ’ It doesn’t help that he doesn’t know what James has been working on. Would it compromise James’ interests to be dating Steve? Does Tony have rules against dating employees after all? Would James prefer to work without the burden of having an Avenger to-

“My friends want me to go out tonight,” James says.

Steve blinks.

“Oh,” he says.

“But I want you to come to my place, I do! It’s just that I haven’t been out with them in-”

“James,” Steve says, hands on James’ biceps now, “James, sweetheart,” and James’ rambling comes to a halt, “I thought it was gonna be like ‘Mr Stark says I can’t see you any more’ or something. Don’t fret about spending time with friends - I’ve been keeping you all to myself, you go out and have a good time tonight. And, I tell you what-”

“If Mr Stark says we can’t date, I quit.”

“Don’t quit, honey, _I’m_ your boyfriend. Anyone tells you we can’t date, you come tell me and I’ll… _explain_ it to them.”

“Hmm, I love it when you’re badass,” James says. 

“You must love me all the time then,” Steve answers. “But seriously, it’s no skin off my nose if you want to spend some time with your friends, okay?”

James blinks at him for a moment, mouth hanging open. 

“Uh?” he says - Steve’s not sure what’s stalled him but that’s okay.

“And I’ll tell you what, if you can get back here after, get back here after. If you can’t, call me and I’ll come get you. Okay?” 

James seems to come back to himself and he nods, grins widely.

“Thank you,” he says, and then he laughs, squeezes Steve (at least, his arms tighten), “thank you!”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Steve answers, and he lifts one hand to brush hair behind James’ ear. “You’re your own man, you got friends and family of your own. Don’t worry about shit like this in future, okay? We can work it out - have a good time tonight and you can take me to your place tomorrow.”

James bites his lip, and it does nothing to stifle his smile.

He kisses Steve again, nice and thorough, and Steve looks down at him even though they don’t really pull away even when they’ve broken the kiss.

“How long you on lunch for?”

“I think about forty-five minutes,” James says. “Jarvis, what time is it?”

 _“The current time is thirteen twelve,”_ Jarvis says.

“Yeah,” James nods. “About forty five minutes.”

“How nice,” Steve says, slipping out of James’ embrace to get down onto his knees in front of him instead, glancing up with a smile as he goes for James’ belt. “I can do a lot with forty-five minutes.”

***

Once James goes back to work, a little bit unsteadily but happy nonetheless, Steve is looking at another long Friday afternoon waiting for the changeover so that he can spend tonight by himself. For a moment or two, he’s disappointed - he was looking forward to curling up with James and doing anything or nothing, looking forward to seeing James’ place and eating a quiet meal with him but it’s…

He smiles to himself. It’s a nice problem to have, really. It’s a nicer problem to have knowing there’s a resolution but instead of wallowing in his disappointment, he revels in knowing that he misses someone and that he’ll see them soon. More to the point, he misses someone with whom he gets to curl up and go to sleep at night, someone who shares his immediate proximity and enjoys his cooking and likes his sense of humor and it’s _so nice_ to miss someone he cares about so much.

He’s having a little bit of a problem, because he’s always had a lot of love to give - more than that, he’s always given it pretty freely. He loves his friends, he loved his mother, he loved a couple of people with all his heart, once or twice, and he loves because he knows what it is to live in a world where you can’t talk about a thing like that. He expects that, sooner than he thinks, the mention of it will trip off his tongue in the middle of a conversation, the way it mostly has for the people who’ve come before James. But it hasn’t been long enough for Steve to be able to get past the roadblock in the middle of his emotions. Part of him still remembers how it felt to say it and have it rejected, part of him still hates how it felt to mean it without hearing it in return. Part of him remembers what it was to love without being loved back.

He will say it once he means it, but he’s never yet said it without meaning it, and he doesn’t intend to start with someone as young and impressionable as James. 

It hasn’t even, yet, been three months since he first asked James up to his apartment, and it’s been just one and a half since their first date. It does, Steve notes, feel as though James is exactly where he’s supposed to be. It hasn’t been difficult to accept James into his everyday, to figure James into his plans, to spend time with James. He doesn’t feel as though he’s bored or impatient, or as though he needs a break from James - he’s glad of the company, glad of the companionship. 

Steve does not, at this point, love James, but he _will_ , he has no doubt about that. 

He checks the clock on the wall - he’s got just over three hours until duty’s over. Anything could happen during that time, but the likelihood is that it won’t. So Steve pulls together the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies (his favorite type is vanilla cookie with milk chocolate chips, sue him) and starts to bake. By the time he’s done with the making and the baking and the cleanup - providing all stays quiet - it’ll be time to clock off anyway. 

And then…

Well, then, Steve can grab those things he wants from the store, and then he’ll find something to do. Probably. Maybe he’ll finish the book he’s been reading. Maybe he’ll eat twenty-four chocolate chip cookies. Who knows?

***

James knows how to look good. He’s learned what to use and how to use them, and he’s learned what compliments his skin tone and his eyes. He doesn’t Instagram his makeup - he’s not about chiseled brows and overlining his lips. But a nice foundation, a reasonable amount of highlighter, lips that match his natural color and the kind of smoky eye professional makeup artists would be jealous of. Plus falsies, because of course falsies.

Luckily, he’s kept all this stuff with him, and it’s been living at Steve’s this past week, so here he is, staring into the mirror on Amy’s vanity, while she touches up her roots in the bathroom. She has pink and purple streaks that used to be turquoise and cobalt, and he knows she’ll dye it multicolored for pride in a couple of weeks when she comes with him to Pride. 

He’s ditched the black tie and donned a black waistcoat, opened his white shirt a couple more buttons and rolled up his sleeves. He’s taking his bag, obviously, just in case he winds up at like Connor’s or decides he’s going home or whatever, maybe he’ll actually call Steve, but the plan is to go out and have fun. He doesn’t like getting drunk, that’s not the objective - but spending the evening out with his friends is something he hasn’t done for too long. He’s turned into a recluse (which isn’t difficult when you consider why. Anyone in their right mind would lock themselves away with Steve Rogers if they could,) and he’s missed spending time with people he likes, doing things he likes with them.

“What do you think?” Amy says, and James is just gluing his left eyelashes on.

“Sec,” he says, pulling the eyelash face, plumping them up a little once they’re adhered, and he turns around to look at her.

James’ work-suit turned classy going-out outfit works for him, Amy’s doing the bombshell thing. Leather pants that lace up down the sides and leave a strip of skin showing from thigh to her ankle-high boots - both such dark mauve they’re almost black - and an off-white boho blouse that drapes in the right places.

“Aw, you look great,” he says, and she frowns at him.

“Damn,” she says. “Hey, can you do my lashes?”

James grins.

“Yeah,” he says, “but only if you do my hair.”

“Deal,” she says, and she comes and sits next to him so they can both finish getting ready. 

~

Steve is on cookie number six by the time Sam shows up with Clint and Wanda in tow, and opens the door as he’s finishing it.

“Mmmm!” Wanda says, breathing deeply, her eyes lighting up. “I hope that’s not for an occasion!”

Sam shakes his head.

“Don’t matter,” he says, pretending, as Steve steps back to let them in, that he’s shoved Steve out of the way, “we’re the occasion now.”

Steve laughs and directs them towards the kitchen counter, where the other eighteen cookies are cooling - and apparently filling Steve’s apartment with the scent of freshly baked cookies.

“Milk’s in the refrigerator, if you mice aren’t happy with your cookies.”

“I am very happy with my cookie,” Wanda says, “but I will also take you up on that.”

Sam grabs glasses for all four of them, and everybody grabs a cookie. Then Sam takes one of the stools at the breakfast island as Clint hops up to sit on the counter, and Wanda smiles at Steve over her glass of milk.

“These are good, Cap,” Clint says, examining his closely. “New recipe?” 

“Same recipe,” Steve answers wryly, leaning on the counter. “You’re gettin’ one, _maybe_ two, but I didn’t make ‘em for you so you don’t need to butter me up.”

“I’m wounded,” Clint tells him. 

“You’re thieves is what you are,” Steve answers.

“Even me?” Wanda says, and Steve huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Aw, sweetheart, as if I’d count you among these hoodlums.”

“Hmm, you’re such a generous man,” she says, smiling.

Steve smiles back.

“Aw, shucks, Ma’am, dame like you oughta-”

“Are you done?” Sam says, and Clint snickers.

Steve turns his head to try and glare at Sam but the look on Sam’s face cracks him up early. 

“What do you want, any how? Ain’t you got your own places you can be terrorizing?”

“Our places don’t have cookies,” Clint points out, which is reasonable, except,

“You didn’t know I was makin’ em. Still, you’re all here - this an intervention or something?”

“First step to not being a hormone-addled hermit,” Sam says, “is admitting you have a problem.”

Steve levels a look at him.

“Oh, I got a problem all right,” he says, but then he reaches out, taps Sam’s bicep with the backs of his fingers. “Come on, what gives, somebody got a problem?”

Sam rolls a shoulder. 

“No problem, man, no problem. We’re gonna head out for a while, grab a burger, go for a beer and we thought, hey, kinda miss that asshole who eats like a vacuum cleaner, you know? So this is your formal invitation-”

“Did you need any sealing wax? I have some left over from my youth, I think-” 

“You wanna come with?” Sam says, biting back a smile.

“That is,” Wanda says, batting her eyelashes, “if you have time for us…”

“I always got time for you, sister,” Steve says, glancing over his shoulder at her, “it’s these schmucks that’s the issue-”

“I’m offended,” Clint says. “I will take my cookies and go-”

“Hands off, birdbrain,” Steve says, and Wanda comes past Steve to stand between him and Clint.

“Boys,” she says. 

And Steve thinks about it. There’s no good reason he shouldn’t - James is out with his friends, Steve might as well enjoy the company of his own.

“My hands weren’t _on_ birdbrain,” Clint says.

“Hey!” Sam answers.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says, “lemme change into something a little less ‘me’ and we’ll go. We heading out anywhere in particular or we just seeing where we end up?”

Sam shrugs.

“Sports bar,” he says, “diner, restaurant, café or somethin’? Not too flash, cozy and incognito, you know-”

“Somewhere with pizza,” Clint adds, “and probably wings. And also burgers and garlic bread, God, I’m hungry.”

“Good thing we’re going out for food,” Steve says as he walks down the corridor towards his bedroom, calling back, “one more cookie each.” And then he comes all the way back down the corridor and sticks his head around the corner, clears his throat so they all look at him. “One,” he says, holding up his index finger.

He grins as their jeering follows him down the corridor, and wonders if he can get away with wearing his motorcycle jacket over black jeans and a white tee. Minimum effort. Maximum looking-modern. Actually, it makes him look like a greaser but who cares anyway? He’s got a clean white tee in here somewhere. 

Where did he put it? 

~

James and Amy meet Connor at a coffee house first, because it’s only like six-thirty, and they’ll go grab food after. They’ve always done it this way, too - none of them do the drink-until-you’re-drunk thing, preferring to make the evening an event in itself. James wants burgers because he’s craving red meat - Amy says she feels that way too and Connor, who’s a veggie, will happily eat a veggie burger but doesn’t mind if they eat meat around him. That’s another thing James likes about him.

But they start off with a coffee each - Amy with a mocha, Connor with a cappuccino, and James with his usual caramel coffee chocolate monstrosity that the baristas have to make specially because nobody in their right mind would put it up on a menu board. He takes three sips and Amy stares at him.

“What the hell lipstick are you using?” she says. “It’s not even coming off on your coffee mug!?” 

James laughs and pulls it from his bag and lets her use some. 

“I’ve had it probably longer than I should have,” he says as she does. “Becca bought it for me for like…not this birthday but the one before.”

He used to dream about affording branded items back when he was in college, but he’s slowly paying off the student debt he’s accrued. Actually, he’s paying it off a hell of a lot more quickly than some of his friends are, and he’s grateful for that. 

“How’d you even learn all that?” Connor says. “You look like one of those, like, those…fashion guys, you know? Not the…uh, shit, like…Did somebody professional teach you or something?”

James shakes his head.

“I learned off YouTube,” he says, “plus some other sites.”

Connor really examines James’ face.

“It’s,” he says eventually. “Like the, it’s, you look like…”

“Bitch, I’m flawless,” James answers, and Connor laughs. “Thanks. I haven’t tried it on the new boyfriend yet, not sure how he’ll take it.”

“Awh,” Amy says, looking concerned. “Why not, you’re pretty, baby, if he can’t handle you at your New York Fashion Week-”

James snorts, takes a long drink of his ‘coffee.’

“He’s like…he’s an older guy, so, y’know.”

“Ohhhh?” Connor says, dragging the whole thing out to make the rising inflection super exaggerated. “You have a new older _boy_ friend, _ohhhhh_?”

“I have a new older boyfriend,” James says. “He’s got a big dick and a bigger heart and he likes how short I am.”

“But he doesn’t like lipstick?” 

“He will when I get it on his dick,” James says, and then glances around just in case anybody’s heard, because it's still only six-thirty and there might be kids or something. 

Nobody has.

“Amy’s right though,” Connor says. “You’re a stunner. You know, if I wasn’t straight-”

“If you weren’t gay-” Amy says,

“In a different reality,” James says, quoting Star Trek,

“I could have called you friend!” they all say together, lifting their mugs to clink them together. 

James’ plastic thing makes a sad kind of ‘blap’ noise but like who cares. 

_“Qapla’!”_ Connor says.

“That’s Klingon,” Amy tells him.

“Yeah, sorry, my Romulan’s a little rusty?”

“Mine isn’t,” James says.

“I mean, doesn’t that make you more of a nerd than me?” Connor asks.

 _“Oehl d-navassa'tel,”_ James says.

Amy laughs, evidently understanding, and they both point at her. 

“NERD!”

~

Steve grabs falafel from his favourite falafel food truck on the way to the burger joint. Sam pulls a face.

“I know you can,” he says, “but do you gotta?”

“Sam, I’m going to have a bacon double cheeseburger with fries and onion rings and I’m gonna have a vanilla milkshake to go with it. I don’t _have_ to do _anything_ , but I will anyway! I’m gonna have a slice of chocolate fudge cake, too. It’s twenty-twenty-six, Cap, live a little.”

Sam narrows his eyes. Everybody calls him Cap now, but it’s worse coming from Steve. Steve grins, and hopes he has cilantro in his teeth.

“My mother’d whup your ass for that, asshole,” he says. “I don’t need to see it all goin’ around in there.”

Steve chews with his mouth open and Sam pulls a face, shoulders him halfway across the sidewalk.

Steve just laughs and Wanda loops her arm through his. He gives her a bite and she nods her approval.

“Not bad,” she says, lifting delicate fingers to cover her mouth as she speaks.

“See?” Steve says. “Wanda’s got taste.”

Clint appears in his periphery making a sad face.

Steve takes two more massive bites out of his falafel to get halfway down from where he started, and then hands the remaining half to Clint.

“Oh wow, thanks!” Clint says, surprised, and Steve jabs his thumb in Clint’s direction. 

“This could be us,” he says.

“Oh I get it,” Sam says. “ ‘But I’m playin’, right?”

Steve frowns, nonplussed, steps slowing.

“Huh?” he says.

“Jesus,” Sam mutters, swipes a hand down his face.

Wanda laughs.

~

“I don’t know how much you wanna hear!” James says, and Amy points at the noodle joint. 

They’re not eating, but this place does the best plum wine.

“I want to know everythiiiiiing,” Amy says, and Connor checks his phone.

He isn’t drinking, because his girlfriend is working and he’s picking her up off the late shift when they’re done.

“I can’t tell you everything!” James says, and Connor pulls a face.

“Some celebrity he is,” he says. “I bet it’s nothing to do with being a secret. More like it’s some really terrible celebrity. Like you _could_ tell us, but you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, totally,” James nods. “It’s Steven Segal.”

Amy makes an ‘almost-vomited’ face and Connor laughs.

“So Steven’s very good in bed, is he?” he asks, and James…

James sort of feels his brain slip a little bit, and then notices that he’s being laughed at when he comes back to himself.

“Uh,” he says.

“That’s a yes,” Amy answers. “Does he let you call him Steven?”

James blinks. Actually, this could work.

“Uh,” he says, and then he puts on his best smug expression and says, “actually, I’m allowed to call him Steve.”

Because something that’s way easier than remembering a fake name is remembering a real name and convincing everyone else it’s fake.

“Ohh, okay, okay,” Connor says, and he holds the door open for them as they go inside. “So you and ‘Steve’ have been dating for how long now?”

“Like nearly two months,” James says. “I mean, I met him before that but yeah. And like I knew I liked sex _before_ but he bought me an aneros-”

“Oho, I’ve heard of those!” Amy says. 

“Yeah, well,” James says, “I promise, it’s absolutely as much fun as it looks.”

~

Steve says a silent grace and digs in. He has a bacon double cheeseburger with onion rings, spiced tomato relish, mayo, mustard, paprika fries, chicken-salt sweet potato fries with garlic aioli, and mozzarella sticks, because why the hell not? There’s a small container of house popcorn chicken, a small basket of cheesy garlic breadstick slices, and then he has a beer and a vanilla milkshake on the table, too.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Sam says, “I wish I could eat like you eat.”

“Do you wish you could get up at four in the morning to take powder supplements, too?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow before he takes a huge bite of his burger - it’s so greasy he needs a napkin immediately, and this is the _life_. “Oh my god,” he says.

Wanda has corn on the cob and a sandwich too, but it’s shredded BBQ pork, with a a salad of roasted vegetables, and she’s having it with an apple juice. 

Sam and Clint are splitting pizzas. The place lets you order slices as well as pies, so they’ve got a pepperoni deep-dish and then Sam has a couple anchovy slices and Clint has quattro formaggi, both of them drinking beer.

Steve’s changed his mind about a piece of chocolate fudge cake but only because Wanda wants a banana split and says she can’t eat a whole one. She and Steve are both the kind of people raised in worlds where you didn’t waste food, so hell yeah he’ll share a banana split. It’s a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it. 

“How is it?” he asks, pointing to Wanda’s meal.

She just smiles at him, mouth full, and he takes a mouthful of beer to clear his mouth a little better.

“Got any plans next couple weeks?” he asks the table in general. 

“Sam old, same old,” Clint says.

“I’m back in D.C. for a patrol thing - so yeah, me too.”

Steve looks to Wanda and she shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “Wait, I do have ticket to a Broadway show, but nothing aside from that.”

“Oh, which one?” Clint says. 

_Clint_.

“Wouldn’t’a figured you for the Broadway type, Barton,” Steve says. 

Clint makes big eyes and hides his face with a slice of pizza.

“Mystery is my middle name!” he says.

“I thought Francis was your middle name,” Sam mutters.

~

“Yeah,” Connor’s saying, “but all I mean is that you can’t prove the existence of a higher power-”

“That’s not what we’re talking about,” Amy says. “I’m not talking about proving anything, we’re talking about the right of individuals to hold beliefs about it and how it pertains to freedom of speech - religious or otherwise.”

“Plus, the whole debate is ridiculous,” James says. “You _can’t_ prove one way or another, you can only argue that absence-”

“Nobody’s talking about proving it!” Amy says. “ _And_ I’m not talking about just religion, doofus, I’m saying, yeah, flat-earthers and fundamentalists are annoying on Facebook, but what I’m also saying is, how far does a belief like that go before we consider it outside the realms of free speech and inside the parameters of, say, hate speech? Or dangerous enough to stop? Like is any of it dangerous enough to override freedom of speech?”

“Like anti-vaxxers?” James says.

“Oh my God, yes,” Amy says, “like _oh my God_ yes, exactly. Or okay, it’s the USA, you can say what you want, but somebody calls me out for being Asian, okay, so is that hate speech or free speech?”

“I mean, it's a fuckin' dick move but like isn't it both?”

Amy points at him.

“See now, _that’s_ my point. Where do you draw the line?”

~

“…much faster otherwise we’re looking at like damage on the ground every time we go supersonic.”

“Yeah, not ideal to blow up one town while you go save another. Can’t he just put in extra cupholders and be happy?”

~

“…bottom of the ninth! Like how do you even…”

~

“…isn’t an existential crisis then I don’t know what is…”

~

“…seriously the best donuts in the entire state…”

~

“…too much burnt umber if you ask me…”

~

James doesn’t want to go home. It’s not that late - only nine or so - but they’ve eaten and the place they moved to an hour ago is starting to fill up. Plus he’s tired, boy is he ever. It’s been a long week as far as he’s concerned, and he’s ready to pack it up and go to sleep but his makeup is still fine and he doesn’t have a headache, and why shouldn’t he be out enjoying himself?

(He knows exactly what his problem is.)

Amy sees him texting, doesn’t interrupt but gives him the _‘you okay?’_ nod, and he smiles, waves a hand. _‘It’s nothing.’_ He’s putting his phone back in his pocket when it vibrates in his hand, and he looks down, unlocks it.

................................ _Miss you xx_   
................................ 21.11   
_Miss you too. You ok?_  
21.11

James smiles.

................................ _Miss you xx_   
................................ 21.11   
_Miss you too. You ok?_   
21.11   
................................ _Totally. Just miss you xx_  
................................ 21.12

“Place is filling up,” Amy says. “I reckon we should move. I know a little place that’s nice.”

“By nice,” Connor says, picking up his coat as they stand, “do you mean quiet or do you mean cozy?”

“Kinda both?” she says.

Amy’s known for this kind of thing. She knows little hole-in-the-wall places that tourists can’t find, places you can only discover if you’ve managed to get lost, once-in-a-blue-moon turns around corners that don’t exist unless she’s taking them. Seriously, there’s like at least two places James wants to go back to that she keeps promising to take him, ‘cause he can’t find them by himself. 

“Whereabouts is it?” James asks, and she looks back over her shoulder as they start to move off.

“Like a five minute drive?” she says hopefully, and Connor groans. “Also shotgun, ‘cause I need to give you directions.”

James snorts and they step back out into the New York evening. It’s Friday night - the city’s just getting warmed up.

~

Steve becomes aware that he hasn’t said anything for a while, but that's just fine. They’ve been sitting in this place for maybe an hour or so, but the lights are dim and the place is small and they’re packed in like sardines. 

He loves it. It reminds him of the pub in London. _His_ pub. _Their_ pub. 

And, more than that, his friends are laughing and smiling and telling stories amongst themselves - they seem _happy_ and, really, that’s all he’s ever wanted for any of them.

Wanda turns, he sees her. He’s not paying too much attention really, the sound and smells on the edge of his perception, basking in the enjoyment of the moment, but he becomes aware of her looking at him after a few moments, and he smiles a little bashfully as he makes eye contact. 

“Hey,” he says. 

His voice is low enough that he knows she’ll hear it despite the noise in here - it’s a different kind of sound entirely. 

She tilts her head to get a better look at his face, her smile widening. Under the table, she takes his hand, squeezes his fingers. 

“How about more to drink?” she says, and Steve holds out a hand, shakes his head.

“No,” he says, standing before she can object, “Wanda, no, I’ll get ‘em-”

“Steve,” she says, but he leans down and presses his lips to the top of her head - he loves her like family; they've come a long way since the people they were when they met.

“I know,” he says, edging out of the booth, “I know, you can carry things with your brain, but I’m already up.”

She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t forget that ice-cream,” she says.

And he feigns indignation as well as he can.

“I would never.”

He makes his way through the mishmash of people, around tables and through awkward gaps, and he spots a gap at the bar between a guy with a gin and tonic and a couple of younger people clearly having a good night. 

In fact, it’s not until he’s ordered both the drinks and the dessert that he realizes who they are.

~

James registers the presence of a person behind him, it being a bar clearly built for ants, and finds that he’s face to bicep with this huge blond dude who-

_Oh-_

It's Steve?

Steve frowns down at him, bemused, then takes in his colleagues sitting (from Steve’s perspective) behind him, and his face seems to change somehow, he…closes off somehow. James gets a chill - he’s suddenly terrified that Steve’s seen his friends and doesn’t like them, perhaps doesn’t want James in a bar he considers his own, but then he leans forward.

“Hey,” he says, and James hears Amy turn, hears her stop speaking. 

“Oh my god?” she murmurs, in a way that suggests only James was meant to hear it and she wasn’t moving her mouth at all.

“Don’t you kids work for Stark?”

James feels his eyebrows raise.

“What?” he says, and Steve bites his lower lip.

“Yeah, we do,” Connor answers, and then Connor is coming to stand next to James, holding out a hand.

Steve takes it, shakes.

“Thank God it’s Friday, huh?” Steve says. 

“We got promoted!” Amy says. And then, “oh shit, can I tell him that?”

Connor laughs, and James is still staring at Steve. He projects _“??!!??!”_ telepathically, as loud as he’s able to.

“You can tell him that,” Connor says. “We’ve been approved on our latest project, so we’re celebrating.”

“Ah,” Steve says, lifting his head, and then the barman arrives, passes Steve a bunch of glasses and one of the most amazing banana splits James has ever seen. “Congratulations all of you. Their drinks are on me for the rest of the night, Ander, put it on my tab?”

“No worries, Sir,” the barman answers.

“I’m getting a banana split,” James says, and Steve laughs, a sudden burst of sound as his face creases up.

“Yeah, have that on me, too.”

“No!” James say, mortified. “That’s not what I-”

“Relax, kid,” Steve says, settles his hand on James’ shoulder, a warm, heavy weight that James didn’t realize he’d missed as much as he did. “Ander?”

“Got it,” the barman, Ander, says.

Steve gives them all a smile, balances the banana split on top of the glasses and then lifts everything at once in his massive hands.

“You kids have fun,” he says, and then he turns around and walks back to the table.

“Holy _shiiiiiiiiit_!” Amy says, “holy shit that was _Captain America!_ ”

“Commander Rogers,” James corrects absently, watching the dim lights shine of blond hair.

He knows what that hair feels like under his fingers.

“Whatever,” Amy says.

“He’s got buddies, too,” Connor says, retaking his seat. “Falcon, Scarlet Witch…is that Hawkeye?”

James remembers Steve saying _‘Hwah-kai!’_ in his kitchen, with Becca, and laughs.

“What?” Amy says.

James shakes his head.

“Uh,” he says, trying to find an excuse, and settling on, “so we’ve been in the same room as five different Avengers today.”

“Holy shit, that’s right!” Amy says. 

James’ phone buzzes and he looks down at it to find a message from CSR.

_Miss you too. You ok?_   
21.11   
................................ _Totally. Just miss you xx_   
................................ 21.12   
_Hope I didn’t blow your cover._  
21.46

James tells him it’s fine, thanks him for the drinks, and gives Steve’s table one last look before he turns around to face the bar again.

Steve, all the way on the other side of the place,is smiling back at him, but looks away a moment before James does.

***

Amy still lives with her parents, and Connor drops them there around eleven. Mrs Chen is still awake, and James isn’t drunk, he’s just kinda warm. Mrs Chen makes them cheese on toast because she’s awesome, and then he calls Steve from the back porch.

 _“Hi,”_ Steve’s voice says, and James knows he’s smiling like a goof but he can’t help it. _“You ready for that pickup?”_

“Hi,” James says. “No, I was thinking, I’m gonna spend the night on Amy’s couch bed. I’m…I've had a couple and I’m okay but I…I might not be sober enough for the back of the bike.”

There’s a short pause.

 _“That’s okay,”_ Steve says eventually. _“If you want, I can call you a cab, but if you’re okay at Amy’s..?”_

James nods, chews his thumbnail.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll…I’ll come back to the…I’ll come back into Manhattan tomorrow," just in case someone's listening, "we can go to mine then. I-Is that okay?”

Steve hums, soft and low.

~

“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” he says, glancing at the clock. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 _“Uh,”_ James says, and Steve chuckles.

“Afternoon,” he amends. “Sleep well.”

James mumbles something, and Steve frowns.

“What, honey, what was that?”

 _“I, uh. I said, ‘you too,’”_ James says. _“Good, goodnight, Ste- Goodnight.”_

Steve smiles, considers again how nice it is to have somebody to miss. How nice it will be to see James tomorrow. 

“Goodnight, James.”

And James ends the call.

Steve chews the inside of his cheek and then looks around.

He grabs his pack of cards and decides he’ll head upstairs. He hasn’t seen Carol’s group in a while, and they’re on duty this week. It’ll be nice to catch up.

~

James presses his phone to his forehead and closes his eyes.

Thank God Steve didn’t hear him the first time. 

Except James kind of wishes he had. 

He goes back inside, and finds that Mrs Chen has made them hot chocolate with whipped cream and mini marshmallows to take to bed.

“Oh my God, Mrs Chen,” he says as he takes a seat at the table. “You’re so awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve asks Sam, in Italian, "How about Blackjack? Understand that?"
> 
> Connor says "SUCCESS!" in Klingon.
> 
> James, In Romulan, says "Happy Birthday."
> 
>  
> 
>  **Spoiler alert:** If you'd like to know the dates in this series, here's [a link to a timeline](https://66.media.tumblr.com/aac4be76b217f7b6ea54592e0a76d168/tumblr_inline_pg5mcewTA21rckout_500.png) of the first ten parts, with a short summary of each part. **Spoilers for parts 1-10, though.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As some of you may know, I recently had an injury relapse and I am currently on hiatus, as I am unable to type. While I can see your lovely messages, I am not able to respond as my dictation software is a total nutter. (I won't tell you how long this little message took in total to write. Suffice it to say it took over 15 minutes. So yeah. Not ideal.) Thank you for your lovely complements and well wishes , and I hope to be able to talk to you all again soon.


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